Though they rushed out with even more noise than usual, every boy of
them knew that the noise was to cover a certain sense of shame-facedness,
because they had actually been beguiled into listening quietly for a few
minutes to earnest words.

Directly they had reached the privacy of the street they became quieter.

"I say, boys," said Nimble Dick, "is that an awful green one, or a new
kind?"

"New, I should say," replied one of the younger boys; "she ain't like
anything that's been in that room since we got acquainted with it. I
don't know her style, myself."

"What do you take it she meant by that stuff about being friends, and
telling us where she lived, and all that?"

"Dunno what she meant; but she ain't _green_, you may bet your head
on that. I'll tell you what I think, boys: I b'lieve she knows what she
is about, every time."

What this sage conclusion amounted to, one not acquainted with the
dialect of the street might have been at a loss to understand, but the
rest of the party received it in grave silence and nods of the head, as
though it were a thought that needed careful investigation. In common
parlance, Jerry Tompkins had expressed the opinion that Mrs. Roberts had
some point to gain in being so uncommonly polite and attentive to them,
and they were curious to know what the motive could possibly be.

They considered the important question in silence until they reached the